


Feel So Fine

by Rubynye



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Clothed Sex, M/M, Male Character of Color, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:10:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2499119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve brings Sam some <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=funch">funch</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel So Fine

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "[Sexual Healing](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/marvingaye/sexualhealing.html)" by Marvin Gaye because who am I to turn down the movie's suggestion?

Samuel Wilson, licensed counselor, may be at work on a fine Saturday afternoon, but he's not actually dealing with any of the forms and papers currently spread across his desk at the DC VA. Instead, sitting with his arms loosely folded, head tipped forwards and eyes half-lidded, midday sunshine spilling warmly over his shoulders and across the office floor, Sam daydreams hopefully about his beautiful boyfriend.

Even though Steve moved in months ago, for some reason this week their schedules haven't meshed at all; the little glimpses Sam's had of Steve, flushed and dripping from the shower, blue-sky eyes crinkling over a coffee mug, broad shoulders and narrow ass vanishing behind a shutting door, have gone from tantalizing to torturous. Last night as Sam slid into bed behind a sleeping Steve he leaned over to kiss his ear and thought of kissing his throat, of biting a slow hot mark over his pulse to wake him up, but Steve was sleeping so sweetly, fingers curled beside his parted lips, eyelashes fanned over his cheekbones, that Sam couldn't bring himself to disturb him, even to get it on.

He can think up how it could've gone, though, glowing inside him to match the sunshine soaking into him. He can imagine the taste of Steve's skin under his openmouthed kiss, its resilient give beneath his teeth as Steve shuddered awake, the way Steve would've flipped over to face him, naked and rosy and smiling in his arms. He can almost feel the first press of Steve's tender lips and hard-muscled chest against his, Steve's thigh slung across his, the warmth of Steve's mouth opening under his --

 _Knock, knock, knock_ on the office door dispels the fantasy like a brisk breeze. Serves him right for daydreaming, Sam scolds himself, smiling privately as he rolls his head on his neck and gets up. "Coming!" he calls as he crosses the room, pulling on his game face.

He opens the door to find Steve behind it, toting a brown paper bag, and relaxes all over as he grins. "Hey!" Steve beams a smile, bright and a little dorky, but a shadow clouds his sky-blue eyes; as Sam ushers him in he starts to ask, "Is anything--?!"

Steve slams the door behind him and stops Sam's words with a soft, urgent kiss, gripping his biceps in both hands, the paper bag crinkling against his left elbow. Rekindling from warmth to heat, Sam laughs against Steve's lips and goes with it, tilting his chin up, opening up invitingly. Steve pushes like he rarely allows himself, with flicking tongue and broad chest and thigh hard between Sam's, and _goddamn_ but Sam's knees have already gone weak. It takes more effort than it should to pull his hand off Steve's arm and his mouth from Steve's long enough to gasp, "Hey, hey, the sign--"

Steve blinks eyes gone blue-rimmed black, once-twice-thrice, his fingers squeezing sweet-hot dents in Sam's shoulders before he pries them away. "Uh, yeah," he agrees, pulling away, and as Sam staggers back a step on trembling legs because _holy shit_ , Steve turns just far enough to reach outside and flip the sign to "DO NOT DISTURB", then locks the door again. A little pang of professional guilt sears through Sam's heart, but he didn't have anything scheduled or any messages from potential drop-ins. He can spare a half hour.

Steve turns back to him, broad shoulders and columnar neck and handsome face, smiling sweetly with blown-dark eyes, and Sam is downright dizzy he's so turned on, rising cock throbbing against his restricting zipper. "All this and lunch too?" he stammers, not least because he probably should try to find out what this _is_. Steve's come by the VA for him before, has kissed him in his office before, but this --

\-- is Steve backing Sam up to his desk as Sam's belly does a vertical swoop of anticipation, grinning with lopsided charm as he leans straight-armed on the desk's edge, bracketing Sam's hips. Sam is only human, he leans in for the next plush kiss. "Not exactly," Steve murmurs over Sam's mouth. "Didja eat already?"

"Yeah." Sam kisses him again, openmouthed, and there's a spicy note on Steve's tongue, mustard or something like it sparking off his natural sweetness. Between Steve's hands, between his knees, Sam gives up on figuring things out in favor of trading a deep slick kiss; gripping Sam's hips with those broad beautiful hands, Steve rocks his head back with the pushy kiss, and Sam slides his arms around Steve's back, stops thinking and just hangs on.

By the time Steve pulls his tongue back into his own mouth Sam instinctively moans protest and gives chase, and Steve chuckles as he breaks the kiss entirely. "Hey, hey, can we move some of this?" he murmurs, laughter rippling his voice, and Sam feels the edge behind his thighs, blinks and remembers. Desk. Work. Right.

"This is some urgent project if I have to clear my desk," Sam unwinds his arms from around Steve, who backs off maybe a half step, just far enough to display his dick tenting out his khakis. "Oh, so that's how it is?"

"Yeah." Steve smirks, but his eyes are soft. "This okay?"

Sam presses back against the sharp edge of his desk to make himself try to think. He could say... a lot of things. He's at work, after all, even if it's a sunny unscheduled afternoon, his phone's been silent all day, and the whole place is just about empty. He looks at Steve standing before him, hands open at his sides, and there's only one thing he can say. "Of course, yes." Steve smiles, heartwrenchingly sweet, reaching up to brush his fingertips down the side of Sam's face, and Sam leans into his warm palm.

Then Steve steps back properly, and Sam turns around; they pile all the papers neatly into Sam's inbox and the phone and desk accessories into the outbox, and set them on the floor. Sam pauses to consider nudging them further away from the desk, and Steve leans into his back, one hand on his hip, fingers of the other peeling down his collar to make room for a soft press of lips to his nape. "Distracting," Sam pretends to complain, shoving the boxes away with the side of his foot, leaning back into Steve.

"Multitask," Steve rumbles against his skin, body twisting a little. Shrugging off a layer, Sam figures, as he shudders under the heat of Steve's mouth, as he listens to the woosh and thud of Steve's jacket snagging the hook.

Gripping Sam's hips again, Steve turns him bodily, kissing his cheek as he laughs and gives in way too easily, kissing his mouth and settling their fronts together, chests and bellies and thighs, dicks nudging through too-tight pants. "I remember this shirt," Steve murmurs over Sam's throat, starting on his buttons as Sam palms the granite curves of his knaki-clad ass. "The first time I came down here, you were wearing it."

"That so?" Sam mumbles inanely, his whole head swimming with the feel of Steve draped over him, undressing him, sucking soft kisses onto his neck between words.

"Yeah. I liked it. " Steve untucks it as he speaks, sliding hot hands beneath Sam's undershirt, over his clenching belly. "Wanted to take it off you then and there. Thought that might make me happy."

"Should've gone for it," Sam murmurs against the translucent red shell of Steve's ear, and runs his teeth along its rim as Steve gasps over his pulse. "Would've been more than happy to oblige."

Steve sighs at that, lifting his head. "'Cause I was Captain America?" he asks, a wry twist to his lush mouth.

They go over this every so often. Sam curls his hand behind Steve's nape and tugs him forward, setting forehead to forehead as he answers, "Because you're beautiful," looking Steve right in those true-blue eyes.

Steve smiles properly at that, firms up his hold on Sam and lifts him bodily onto the desk, and Sam really shouldn't enjoy it as much as he does, the swell of Steve's massive chest and his smiling ease, how it feels being moved by so much strength. It's not like Sam's small. Since he was nineteen he's usually been the bigger one, or at least evenly matched, like he was with Riley.

And then he met Steve, whose heart is the biggest thing about him, who shuts those lovely long-lashed eyes and kisses Sam so deeply he feels it down to his toes, as he unbuckles Sam's belt and eases down his straining fly.

Sweet heat swelling in his chest and belly and dick, Sam murmurs, "Steve," the summation of everything he's feeling, and Steve looks up at him with clear eyes and kisses him one more time, before folding gracefully onto his knees as he hauls Sam's slacks and jockeys down around his calves. "Sam," Steve murmurs, brushing impossibly plush lips over the head of his dick, and Sam opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Steve goes down in one slick cushiony slide and all Sam can do is gasp, his eyes squeezing shut as his toes curl inside his shoes and his nipples throb against his undershirt, and bite his own knuckles to keep the noise in.

The doors are credibly soundproofed, after all, but Steve is absolutely incredible. Sam rests his free hand in Steve's soft hair, squeezes his fist tighter against his teeth and struggles to keep his hips from bucking into the hot suction of Steve's gorgeous mouth. There's a crinkling paper sound and a soft pop and Steve's hands come into play, one curving warm over Sam's inner thigh, the other slipping cool and wet behind his balls as Sam's eyes fly open in scandalized delight. "Oh," he gasps as Steve pushes two slippery fingertips against his pucker, "oh my fucking God, Steve --" He bears down, rocking his hips forward, because he knows how slow Steve will go if he lets him, and succeeds in getting those fingers in past the second knuckles. "Oh my God, fuck me."

Steve makes a noise like he's been gut punched, gulping tightly around Sam's dick, and pulls off gasping, wiping his wet red mouth with his hand. "Wha- what?"

"You heard me," Sam insists, squeezing around those two fingers buried in him, watching Steve's eyes flicker at the feel. It had been just sex-noise, just cursing, until Sam heard himself say it and knew it was what he wanted, if they're really doing this on his desk in the middle of the afternoon.

"Don't you want a blowjob?" Steve asks, trying for plaintive, but his sparkling eyes betray him.

Sam's dick definitely does, sending him mournful reports on its lonely coldness. Reminding it that they're a team and if they work together everyone will be happy, Sam has to laugh; feeling the reverberations around Steve's fingers inside him, he has to groan. "I want everything you wanna give me," he says breathlessly, clutching the desk with one hand, cradling Steve's head in the other. "And right now I want your dick up my ass. Come up here and fuck me."

"Yes sir!" Steve gets his feet beneath him and unfolds upwards, and Sam laughs right up until Steve kisses the chuckles off his mouth. "If that's what you want," Steve murmurs against Sam's lips, twisting those fingers to make Sam squirm, "that's what I'll give you." Sam gasps a lungful, maybe to reply, maybe just because Steve takes his breath away; it doesn't matter because Steve storms his mouth with a deep lavish kiss and gently nudges his thighs apart, getting himself a little room.

Since Steve's hands are busy, Sam starts working on getting Steve's pants open as Steve works on distracting him with hard fingers and deep kisses, as they laugh into each other's mouths and it turns into an impromptu challenge. Sam wins, curling his hand around Steve's dick, hot in his hand, vein pulsing under his thumb, and it's Steve's turn to shudder all over, to moan into him. All Sam can do is moan in answer, giving in to Steve's pushy kiss until he realizes he's about to fall flat on his back across his desk.

So he shrugs a little, and does, laying himself out for Steve, who follows him down, pressing him between the hard wooden desk and a wall of hot hard muscle, kissing him down to his tonsils and his soul. It's not easy remembering a plan under such a gorgeous distraction, but Sam succeeds in throwing his arm out in the general direction of that paper bag, gropes into it as Steve twists knuckly fingers inside him and sucks on his lower lip, and finds some napkins, something oblong, and the familiar shapes of a lube bottle and condom packets, the whole kit making him grin under Steve's mouth. To think he thought Steve brought _lunch_.

Steve pulls out of the kiss just far enough to murmur over Sam's buzzing lips, "Grab the lube?" Sam's attempted reply gets muffled out of existence in the next sultry kiss, but really, he's pretty okay with that. More than okay, when Steve sighs like he likes how Sam tastes and cups his nape to hold him close, even if that means Sam distractedly drops his handful.

He gets it on the second try, and Steve lets go with a last gentle bite, leaning back enough to see what he's doing. The space opened up feels wide and empty, and when Sam gets his eyes open Steve's face is rapt, brow furrowed and eyes dark, and much too far away.

Sam sits up with an ab crunch, because he has been known to show off occasionally, and watches Steve's brows lift as he watches, grins as he watches Steve smile and drag his gaze up to Sam's face. "Thought you forgot where my eyes were," Sam teases, just for the pleasure of seeing Steve laugh as he passes over the lube.

He hangs onto the condom, though, brushing a kiss over Steve's smiling top lip as he rips open the packet, holding position so he can feel Steve's mouth slacken tenderly as Sam strokes the condom down onto him. Steve rumbles and kisses Sam, quickly but good and hard, smiling when Sam squeezes his firm sides between his knees. "Okay, hold on," Steve murmurs, and this next kiss is soft and soothing, because he pulls his fingers out not exactly slowly, and Sam startles a bit at the tug.

Sam blinks up his arousal-weighted eyelids and finds Steve filling his palm with the contents of the lube bottle. "I'm gonna slide right across the desk," he complains, because there's no way Steve's going to get even half of that into him, but Steve just shakes his head and grips Sam's nape, pulling him in for more plunging kisses and fingering him some more, stroking over every crease of his rim, slicking him up with torturous strokes until the lube warms from chill to blood hot. Sam grips Steve with his calves and groans into the kiss, tries to buck into Steve's hand and rub his lonely dick up against tantalizing hard flesh, pulse pounding after _faster_ and _harder_ and _more_.

At last, at fucking last, Steve lets him up for a breath, smearing a kiss up his jaw, and Sam comes up gasping and begging, "Come on already, c'mon, baby, I'm ready, I've been ready--" Steve's plump mouth unfurls to a toothy grin pressed into Sam's cheek, he jerks his fingers out, _jerk_ , grabs Sam's hips as he sucks in air to complain and yanks him down _hard_ , sinking in balls-deep, because sometimes Steve drags things out beyond unsuperhuman endurance and sometimes he just goes for it. Sam's breath rushes out in a "Whoo!" of crackle-edged surprise, and Steve curls his wet hand around Sam's dick, nestling his face into Sam's shoulder, and bounces him just this side of a slam.

"Damn," falls out of Sam's mouth, as he grips Steve's nape, wraps his arm across Steve's rippling back, and hangs on for the ride. Steve surges forward, a groan vibrating his teeth flat against Sam's pulse, and everything collides, the desk with Sam's back, his dickhead oh-so-happily with Steve's belly, Steve's with his prostate, holy shit, he saw stars on that one. "Steve, baby -- oh --" as Steve slams into him again on another suppressed groan.

"Sam," Steve rumbles into his throat, and sucks a hard kiss there. "Sam, Sam, Sam," over his jaw and cheek and shoulder, each punctuated by Steve's soft lips and sharp teeth, and Sam's heart beats all the harder at his name in Steve's voice, Steve could never wear it out. Steve tugs his undershirt down, humming into his shoulder as he sucks a hot mark there, wet fingers rippling tight as he drives Sam up into his stroking hand, and Sam's head swings back on his unstrung neck, everything inside him melting, pulling up into the tidal wave he can already feel approaching. The desk groans under them, Sam blinks and his bookcase looks a little nearer, and _oh_ , Steve bites his collarbone, moaning against his throbbing skin; Sam's eyes squeeze shut again, Steve shakes in his hold, and he squeezes Steve everywhere as hard as he can.

Which means the next strokes strike sparks, arcing through his blood and behind his eyes, lightning striking inside him, everything lit up past meltdown and he couldn't not come if he tried. "C'mere, here," Sam babbles while he can, tugging on Steve's nape; Steve lifts his head just a smidge, just enough for Sam to slam their mouths together with a loud heavy _thunk_ or maybe that's something falling behind them, Sam doesn't _care_. Digging his fingers into Steve's rippling back, he shouts into Steve's mouth as ecstasy crashes down through him, surging out in pulsing spurts between their bellies. Steve gasps and Sam hangs on for a last ruthless moment because he knows Steve likes it too, sinking his teeth into the sweet give of Steve's bottom lip, before he lets go and drops his head back.

Steve catches Sam's head, holding him up. Something hard bonks between Sam's shoulder blades but Steve's hand behind his neck, Steve's forehead pressed to his, Steve panting hard against his chest and fucking him just this gorgeous side of sore, are all so much more important. Sam blinks again and Steve's watching him, gaze bottomless through damp-dark lashes, steady and slow-blinking despite the racing roll of his hips. "Sam," Steve breathes one more time, a little smile tucked sideways into his cheek, and Sam's heart pounds like it could beat right out of his chest.

"Steve," he gasps, "Hey, Steve," and Steve's eyelids crimp shut, his mouth falling open into an "oh" of pleasure as he grips Sam achingly tight at hip and nape and shudders through coming. Sam's eyes want to fall shut, sated and sleepy, but he forces them up to watch every flicker cross Steve's face, and when Steve relaxes into a gasping smile Sam tips his chin up to kiss right between those blue-sky eyes.

Then he drops his head back again, and pants as best he can with all of Steve's massive gorgeousness gone postorgasmically limp on his chest. His bookcase has definitely gotten nearer, books leaning out over his face. Sam pries a hand off Steve to nudge a few back into place and notices some gaps that weren't there before; he turns his head, and there they are under the chair. "Think we fucked up my office," Sam wheezes, and Steve's chuckle echoes through him, warm and deep.

Steve pushes up one-handed, looking at the other in its messiness, and Sam grabs his shoulder for leverage, because he just got fucked so hard his desk danced across the room, wiggles off and sits up. He glances around, cataloguing the damage -- the shifted desk, topped with a big smeared handprint, the wastebasket knocked over on the floor, the scattered books, and of course both of them sweaty and sticky and rumpled up -- and starts laughing himself, exhilaration overflowing like the first rise of a flight. "Someone asked to be fucked on his desk," Steve says loftily as he looks up at Sam, his eyes shining.

"Someone showed up prepared like a horny boy scout," Sam counters, reaching for the squashed bag of supplies. The oblong object is a package of wipes, which Steve snags from him, clearly in a mood to do all the cleanup, as he takes care of the condom and tucks his dick away, scrubs his hand and belly and the desk, then sets to work making Sam presentable. Sam? Leans back on both hands and lets him, watching Steve's adorably intent face rather than those broad pale hands moving nimbly across his skin, because it would probably be more than tempting fate to let himself get riled up enough to go for another round.

At length Steve grabs Sam's ankle to duck out from between his thighs, brushing a kiss behind Sam's knee that shocks all smart comments right out of his head. Steve smirks, because he knows just what he did, and Sam grabs him by the ears and kisses him until his mouth softens to tenderness, then keeps going. When Steve slides him a touch of tongue again Sam drops one hand to haul up his pants, keeping the other firmly in Steve's soft roots-damp hair until he's kissed Steve good and thoroughly. He doesn't let up till his lungs force him to, but at least Steve also heaves a deep breath. Sam's starting to cool down a little, skin prickling all over, every bite sweetly throbbing under his clothes, not that they'd show anyway. Steve doesn't ever dare bite hard enough.

Blinking back to focus, Steve steps away, crumpling the bag between his hands, and Sam shimmies onto his feet so they can put his office back together, hauling the desk back where it belongs and picking everything up. It doesn't take long, and Sam can feel Steve's gaze on him, heavy as sunlight, as he opens the window to let in a cool chaste breeze. He starts turning over versions of 'So, what's going on?' in his head, right until he turns around and falls into Steve's guileless eyes, as Steve touches his face with the fingertips of both hands. "Hey," Steve murmurs, and there's barely a line on his face but when he gets like this he doesn't look young. "Hey, thanks. For letting me drop by like this."

"If that's what we're calling it." Sam wraps his hands around Steve's wrists.

Steve curves his palms to Sam's face, cradling his head like somthing infinitely precious. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Fresh off an orgasm and faced with Steve's overwhelming sincerity, Sam blushes, hot under Steve's hands, and knows Steve knows how to see it. "You got along," he mutters, his voice roughening.

"No, I really didn't." Steve tugs, and Sam steps to him, pressing chest to chest, sliding his hands up Steve's arms and down the planes of his back to wrap around his waist.

"Cuddler," Sam accuses, which he will never ever mind, and Steve smiles a little, tilts his head, and kisses Sam so sweetly it makes his heart ache, for a moment out of time standing in the sunshine. Then Steve lets go, draping his arms loosely around Sam's back, but Sam hangs on a second more. "You know, I know exactly what I'd be doing without you," he tells Steve, thinking of those organized, useful, hollow days. "This is better. Much better."

There, blush for blush, Steve's cheeks and ears tinting red as he drops his head, looking down at their chests; if they had time Sam could follow the rosiness down the back of Steve's neck, peeling away his clothes. But they probably don't. He lets go, and Steve steps away, rubbing the back of his neck. "You look like you've gotta go."

"Uh, yeah," Steve mutters, gratifyingly reluctant. "And I probably won't be back till late, don't wait up. But I'll see you at home tomorrow." He looks up again, smiling softly, reaching blindly for his jacket because he's still looking at Sam, and Sam really wants to jump forward and kiss him again.

Instead, Sam leans a hip on his desk, nodding acknowledgement. "You'd better," is all he lets himself say, but he and Steve smile steadily at each other right up until Steve shuts the office door.

Sam leans on the desk's edge a little longer, zipped up and tucked in like nothing ever happened, except for the happy thrum all through him and oh, yeah, he could use a pillow to sit on. He never did find out what was bugging Steve, but Steve left looking exactly as happy as a man who just tossed his boyfriend up on a desk for a nooner, and that's what matters. So Sam makes himself step around to his chair, settles on one hip with his legs crossed to spare his twinging ass, grabs a pen and twirls it between his fingers, and as he picks up the topmost piece of paperwork he smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> "Funch", as [defined by the Urban Dictionary](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=funch): _According to Rawson's dictionary of euphemisms, funch is having sex at lunchtime._


End file.
